Blessing In Disguise

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Sierra Web is a twelve, almost thirteen, year old girl who has been broken and abandoned. At such a young age, she has experienced more tragedies and heartbreak than anyone ever should. Everyday she wishes to be adopted, but nobody seems to want her. Why would anybody want a preteen who self-harms and throws up the little food that she does eat? Obviously, this girl doesn't know about the De La Garza family. Now, Sierra's being thrown into the life of a celebrity's family. The problem? Demi isn't as welcoming as her family. Why is Demi being so hostile towards the new member of the family? Will the hostility cause Sierra to fall into an even deeper downward spiral or will she find out that Demi is actually a blessing in disguise?

Chapter 1 (v.1) - Blessing In Disguise

Submitted: October 06, 2013

Reads: 590

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Submitted: October 06, 2013



Another day hoping, waiting, and suffering. I hope and wait for a family to adopt me, but meanwhile I'm suffering not only here in this home where everyone is cruel to me, but I suffer on the inside too. Everyday feels like a constant battle with myself. Everyday I question whether or not I should just give up and end all of my pain and suffering. Some would argue and say that I'd be acting selfish and cowardly, but they don't know me. They don't know what I've been through. I can't sleep. I trudge out of my bed, feeling as if there is a cloud of depression lingering over me. I quietly walk to the bathroom, careful as to not disturb the other girls who are sleeping. I know it's either very late at night or very early in the morning, for the sky outside the window is pitch black, not a star in sight. The bathroom is small, but it has a shower, a toilet, a sink, and it locks. That's all I need. I enter the room and lock the door behind me. I walk to the other end of the small bathroom and drop down on all fours. You see, when you enter the bathroom, the toilet is on your left and not even a step to your right is the sink. Since I'm on the other side of the bathroom, I'm pressed against the tub. I grope the cold, tile floor and the edge of the tub until I find what I'm looking for. Wedged underneath a broken piece of the tub is my razor blade. I return to my feet and stand in front of the full body length mirror that hangs on the back of the door. I place the shimmering blade on the small edge of the sink and strip down into my undergarments. I pick the blade back up and toss it back and forth.

You're fat.

Nobody would ever want you.

Just do us all a favor and go kill yourself.

Their words rattle throughout my brain like a song on repeat. No matter how hard I try, they won't go away. Ignoring them just makes it worse. I remember one day, not too long ago, when I tried to ignore a group of bullies.

"What kind of last name is Web?" A girl asked me.

I ignored her.

"I'm talking to you!" She snarled.

I kept walking past her, trying to return to my room after lunch.

"You know that you're just a waste of space, a quite large amount of space at that," She snickered. 

I held back the tears that pricked my eyes and threatened to fall.

"Listen to me when I'm talking to you, fat-ass," She commanded, grasping my shoulder and roughly turning me around to face her.

I could feel the tears start to leak from my eyes. She laughed at me, which only caused me to cry harder. She shoved me to the ground and kicked me once, before finally leaving me alone.

I look at my reflection in the mirror. Silent tears are cascading down my cheeks. My blonde hair is messy from tossing and turning in what little sleep I was able to get. My cheeks are red and blotchy from crying. My skin is pale, bones and ribs jutting out. Old scars scatter my wrists, while more recent ones litter my stomach, hips, and outer thighs. I return my attention to my blade. I cut horizontally along my right outer thigh. Once, twice, three times. I then give into the temptation and cut once across my right wrist, being careful not to go too deep. I don't cut much on my wrists anymore, because other girls were starting to get suspicious as to why I wear so many bracelets or never wear a tee-shirt. It feels reinvigorating to cut on my wrists again. I clean up the blood and return my blade back to it's hiding spot. I put my pajamas back on, but I still feel the slight nagging feeling that I'm not done here. I know exactly what I need to do, but I don't want to. I haven't eaten anything for the past three days and I know that if I purge, nothing but stomach acid will come up and that shit burns terribly.

Do it. 

I glance at the toilet, knowing that I have to. 

You need to do this if you want to be thin.

I start walking closer to the toilet.

Nobody will ever adopt you if you look like you do now.

I lean over the toilet and shove my middle and index finger down my throat until I gag. The acid burns my throat as it rises. I purge until I start to see specks of red appear. I flush the toilet, rinse my mouth out, and brush my teeth, before exiting the bathroom. I return to my bed, thankful that nobody as awoken yet. I lay there in a half awake half asleep state, until I manage to fully fall asleep.

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